


Gerry: A Carrie Retelling

by themrp123



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, Blood, Bullying, Carrie - Freeform, Death, Frerard, Horror, M/M, Novel, Retelling, Scary, Strong Language, Symbolism, Tragedy, disturbing imagery, i'm not okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themrp123/pseuds/themrp123
Summary: Basically Frerard inserted into the plot of "Carrie" by Stephen King, with some plot devices changed. Very sad and gay.





	1. Blood Sport

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while! Since we've been away from each other, I got the lead in a musical, got cut from a different musical, got a boyfriend, stole a copy of 'Flowers In The Attic' from my English teacher, became obsessed with My Chemical Romance, and won some awards in a writing competition! Those of you who have read my stuff before, welcome back! I missed you, it's nice to see you again! Those of you who are new, welcome! It's nice to meet you and I hope you enjoy! I love "Carrie": the book, the musical, and both movies (but mostly the seventies one), and I hardcore ship Frerard, so I decided to stick 'em in my own retelling of the story. There are some plot things that are different, and I took elements from every medium, but I hope it's still kinda good. Quick warning: if you're sensitive to blood, disturbing imagery, inaccurate Bible references (I'm agnostic), death, strong language, and bullying, you might want to stay away from this one. It was therapeutic for me, since I was bullied a lot last year, so it might be like really emotional and violent. Also there are some weird shifts in POV that aren't marked. But enjoy, my lovelies! :)

“Go kill yourself, fag!”

“HAHA, GERARD GAY!”

“GERRY WHITE EATS SHIT!”

“HA HA HA HA!”

“FREAK!”

“LOSER!”

“HAHA! HAHAHA!”

Ha… ha… ha. Always laughing.

There was no use in fighting. Why would I even try? Nobody cared.  All I wanted was to either get out of this hellhole called junior year of high school as soon as I could, or kill myself and see what everyone thought of me then. Whichever came first.

No sympathy came to me at home. All I had was my mom, a fanatic Christian. She hadn’t yet figured out that I was gay, thankfully. When she did, she’d probably kill me. I was beginning to wonder if that would be a relief.

“Yo! Shithead!” 

I cringed. Someone’s thrown shoe hit me in the small of my back, and I sighed.  _ No use, no use _ .

The stupid group of boys laughed in their stupid way. Ha… ha...ha.

Pretty damn funny.

I balled my hands into fists.  _ Don’t fight back. They’ll just make fun of you. _

“How do you think you’re gonna play volleyball with those toothpick arms!?”

“Look at his dumb face! He doesn’t even know what to do about it!”

“HAHAH-” 

“SHUT UP!” I screamed, restraining myself from punching the idiot. A lightbulb popped overhead at just that second, sending tiny sparks showering down.

“Ohh, look at the little baby, he’s gettin’ pissed!”

I shook my head.  _ I’m done. _

I hurried from the locker room, head low, to snickers from every boy I passed.

I shut my eyes, forcing back tears. Of course, I tripped over someone’s outstretched foot because I wasn’t looking. More laughter. Someone stepped on my back, making a cracking sound, and I scrambled to my feet as fast as possible, scuffling off to the volleyball court.

I hated gym class.

All I wanted was for someone to turn a kind face to me for once. 

“Who’s your latest target, faggot?” A hand stopped me, hitting me in the chest. 

I refused to answer, continuing to walk forward like the boy wasn’t even there. This was how I’d tolerated all this for so long; I pretended it wasn’t happening.

* * *

It was common knowledge that Gerard Way was a freak. None of the students were allowed to take pity on him, because it would be terribly taxing on their reputation. In fact, anyone caught even smiling in a friendly manner at him would be shunned. It had always been that way; he was always the weird one, the geeky, gothy one who’s mother was a scary Christian fanatic. He was shy and silent, hiding a creative mind behind timid hazel eyes. He walked with slumped shoulders, holding whatever he was carrying - usually comic books - close to his chest. He was different.

* * *

Volleyball was awful.

Of course, everyone just  _ had _ to purposefully hit the ball to me, because they knew I couldn’t hit it back. I didn’t know how.

“What’s wrong, Gerard Gay!? Serve the ball, dammit!” 

Both teams chuckled. They were staring at me, watching the sweat trickling down my face, and they were grinning like sick dogs. They were waiting to see me melt down.

I shut my eyes. The volleyball left my fingertips, slipping out and hitting the floor at my feet.

I couldn’t do it.

“HAHAHAHA!”

I pressed my hands to my ears.  _ Stop… Just stop… LAUGHING! _

My knees hit the floor. My teeth gritted together. 

_ Calm down, calm down. You can handle it. You’ve handled it before. _

My mind flexed, and one of the banners on the wall advertising the basketball team fluttered to the floor.  I fought to get to my feet.

“Gerard, do you want to take a break?” Mr. Desjardin, the gym teacher, offered, setting a hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged his hand off and shook my head. “No, no. Just don’t make me serve again. Please.”

“Alright then.” He stepped back and blew his whistle.

I did my best to lay low until the game’s end. The ball did hit me in the head at one point, but that was expected.

* * *

_ Our Father, which art in heaven, _

_ Hallowed be thy Name. _

_ Thy Kingdom come.  _

_ Thy will be done in earth,  _

_ As it is in heaven. _

_ Give us this day our daily bread. _

_ And forgive us our trespasses, _

_ As we forgive them that trespass against us.  _

_ And lead us not into temptation,  _

_ But deliver us from evil.  _

_ For thine is the kingdom,  _

_ The power, and the glory,  _

_ For ever and ever.  _

_ Amen. _

* * *

Back in the locker room, I undressed and reached for my clothes as quickly as possible, just wanting to change and get out of there as fast as I could. Before I could even put on my jeans, a sneaker hit me in the back. The same sneaker as before.

Laughing.

I turned about, and another sneaker flew at me, hitting me square in the face like someone had deliberately kicked me. The sharp pain was sudden. I raised my hands to my face and felt a hot, thick river of something pouring from my nose. Blood.

Nausea at the sight of my own blood swirled in my stomach. I couldn’t move. I just stood dumbly and stared at those boys, and those boys were laughing hard at me. My vision blurred. Another shoe hit me in the chest. A drop of blood from my nose dripped onto the floor, crimson flowers blooming on the tile. 

More and more sneakers were thrown at me, skinny me standing there in my boxers, while those sneakers pounded me from all those boys. And it hurt. It hurt more than hell.  I felt like I was dying.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, “HELP ME!!”, collapsing on the cold floor, drawing my knees close to my chest to protect it, as more shoes hit me, more laughter came from those _ stupid _ boys, and all of the lockers slammed shut while my mind pulsed.

I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dying-

Pain. Blood. Tears. And so much laughter….

“Hey! Guys! Cut that shit out!”

I opened my eyes, throat raw from screaming. The sneaker rain had stopped, and I soon saw why - someone was standing in the line of fire.

“You all need to get the hell out of here! Leave, you fuckers!” my savior yelled. Miraculously, the boys rushed out of the room. 

My hero was blurry from tears, but I could make out a stocky frame as he turned and started walking towards me -

“Are you alright?” 

I gasped. Frank Iero.

He extended a hand to me, a hand that I took. He pulled me gently to my feet and hugged me to him, letting me dry my tears in his neck. One warm hand stroked my wavy black hair, the other was pressed against my back, holding me close. He rocked me back and forth, humming a delicate melody, until my breathing slowed. 

When the tears were done, Frank stepped back, holding me at arm’s length. His face was kind, and it was handsome, with large eyes and sweet dimples. His hair was black and shaggy. Despite his short height, I could see why people listened to him.  Frank was too badass to be messed with.

Frank sighed. “Those guys are idiots. Are you okay?”

All I could do was nod, but I was lying, and Frank could tell. He let me go for a moment so he could grab a towel from his locker. Tenderly and with obvious care, he wiped the blood from my bare skin. “You poor guy,” he murmured, empathy warming his husky voice. He kept talking in a gentle manner as he worked, saying he was so, so sorry for the way the guys had treated me, and other sweet things. I was relaxing more and more by the minute.

“Alright.” Frank took a step back, studied me, and smiled. It might have been a figment of my imagination, but I thought I saw his face redden for a moment before he turned away to retrieve my clothes from my locker. “Here you go.” He handed the bundle to me.

Silently, I began to dress myself. I could sense Frank’s discomfort as he wondered whether he should leave me alone or stay.

“You can go. I wouldn’t want to make you late.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

Frank laughed. It was not a mocking, maniac laugh like that of every other student. His was a warm, happy laugh. “I was wondering when you were going to say something. But no, I think I’ll stay. You're good company." He smiled. "You know that those boys are sick fucks, right?”

I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t remember how. I settled for a tiny smile as I stood up from tying my last shoe.

“You should never let them get you down. Oh, and if you need me, I’ll be here. Always.”

My smile was bigger this time. I threw my arms around Frank. “Thank you so much, for everything,” I gushed.

He gave me that chirping laugh again and rubbed my back. “No problem, Gee. It was my pleasure… oh, and I can call you Gee, right?”

I let him go, but not without noticing how good he smelled. “If you want.” The nickname gave me pleasant tingles.

“Awesome. Come on, Gee,” he said, taking my hand and smiling his cute smile. “Let’s get you to the headmaster’s office.”

My smile dropped. No. No way. _Mama can never hear about this!_

I shook my head vehemently. 

“Gee, what they did was unforgivable. We need to tell the headmaster.”

“No,” I muttered, still shaking my head.

“Come on.” Frank squeezed my hand.

“No. My mama can’t hear about this, she’ll -” I fought back another wave of tears.

“It’ll be alright, I promise you.” Frank led me out of the locker room and towards the main office, touching my back again.

I whispered a prayer on the way to the office; a prayer that everything would be okay.

* * *

Headmaster Dunn cleared his throat rather loudly, not able to cover up the awkwardness of the office. Frank Iero was leaning forward in his chair, passionately and animatedly explaining whatever had happened to Gerard Way in the locker room. The boy in question was curled into a ball, refusing to speak, let alone look up from the ground.

“Who was it that threw the shoes?” Dunn asked, not particularly caring. He figured he’d just deal out punishment where it was due and be done with it. He’d never much liked Gerard Way anyway. Nobody did.

“All the boys. Bert’s crew.”

“Well, we’ll just excuse you from PE for a while, and call your mother -”

“What?” Gerard finally spoke. He looked not at Dunn but at the phone.

“You’ll be taking study hall instead of PE for a week, and I’m about to phone your mother.”

Gerard shook his head. 

Frank reached out to rub Gerard’s shoulder. “Buddy, he’s got to call your mom.”

“No,” Gerard whispered. He rocked back and forth, shaking his head.

“Mr. Iero is right,” Dunn said, picking up the phone.

“No!” Gerard spoke sharply, his head snapping up to glare Dunn in the eyes. At that moment, the ashtray sitting on Dunn’s desk tumbled onto the floor, scattering gray flakes everywhere. Gerard stood and ran from the room. Frank followed after, calling Gerard’s name.

Dunn sighed and rubbed his temples. Just another crazy student dilemma. He couldn’t wait until retirement.

* * *

Mama didn’t own a car, so I walked home every day. Today, I held my books close to my chest (as she wouldn’t allow me to have a backpack, saying they were sinful) and took quicker steps, my shoulders hunched.

“Gerry White! Gerry White!” taunted Keo, a little boy that could always be found riding around town on his bike. He and I were neighbors. I’d always hated him, but today, I was especially angry. I thought,  _ die, little shit! _

My mind flexed so violently that I almost lost hold of my books - but I wasn’t distracted enough to look away from little Keo’s bike flipping forward, pitching the boy onto his face on the concrete.

_ That’s what you get. _

I smiled and continued on my way.


	2. Jesus Watches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what Jesus is because I'm agnostic, but he's in here a lot. Brendon Urie makes an appearance as "shirtless neighbor boy".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! I meant to post this later but I just got so into it that I ended up with a whole chapter! (It is like a thousand words shorter than the first chapter but it covers more ground). I'm currently mad at my costar in the play I'm in because our kiss was supposed to be staged today and I was stressing all week but then he just didn't kiss me and my director was like 'aren't you gonna do it' and my costar was like 'sorry it's just awkward can we wait till next week' and I don't know why I'm mad about it but I'm mad about it. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I enjoyed writing it. I had to do some research because I've never read the Bible (and honestly, I don't plan to) so hopefully I didn't fuck anything up. Enjoy!

“Mama?” My chest tightened with worry as I crept into the living room.

Our house was one story, dusky and smelling of dust. There was my room, Mama’s room, the bathroom, the living room, and the kitchen, and  _ the closet _ . Just the thought of it made me shudder.

The house was always cold, even in the summer. Shadows dwelled within, living alongside Mama and me. She was convinced that Jesus lived in the shadows, but I knew better. Our house was just dark. Every whitewashed wall in the house was hung with framed paintings, ranging from the grotesque to the unbearably comical, depicting Bible scenes. There was a cross above my door and my bed, and Mama’s as well. 

Mama was sitting in one of the straight-backed chairs in the living room, humming some hymn or another and knitting a scarf at the little sewing table. She was a very large woman, a trait I had not inherited, with thick gray coils of hair surrounding her wrinkled toad face. A tiny pair of spectacles perched on her jutting nose, magnifying her beady eyes. She looked up slowly upon my entrance, her gaze cold. “Gerard.”

“Hello, Mama.” I set my books down on the other chair, choosing to stand beside it. I prayed that Mama hadn’t found out about the shoes. If she found out about the shoes, she’d find out about the locker room. Mama was convinced that I would “catch the disease of homosexuality” if I changed in the dressing room with the rest of the boys - she didn’t know that I changed in there anyway. If she found out, I’d be locked in the closet for the rest of my life.

“Gerard, you are a sinner. The school has informed me of your activities in the locker room and of your relationship with Frank Iero. You are a homosexual, Gerard.” Her voice pulsed with fear. 

I looked not at Mama but at the five-foot-long plaster crucifix that had been nailed to the wall. I looked at the blood sliding over Jesus’s pale body, his face frozen in torment, and shuddered. “Mama, I am not in a relationship with Frank. The school lied to you.”

“Go to your closet.” Mama’s voice was deep enough to be Christ’s.

“No.” I snapped my head to stare at her. “I was so scared, Mama. Those boys, they threw things and my nose was bleeding and I was so  _ scared _ , Mama!”

Mama hastened towards me. The crack of her hand against my face and the pain that shot up my cheek made tears well in my eyes. 

Mama hit me again, smacking me to the floor. My elbow hit the hardwood, and it hurt like the shoes.

“Mama, please! I’m not a sinner!”

“ ‘Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.’" Her foot connected with my ribs. I screamed, I cried, it hurt,  _ it hurt _ . “Go to your closet!”

“Mama-”

“Gerard!” she roared, and her great purple throat coarsed with rage. “ _ Closet _ . You will go and pray for your sinning soul, your wicked, wicked heart!” Mama seized my arm and tried to haul me to my feet.

My screams mixed together, words jumbling as I flailed against Mama’s grip. Her fingers cinched hard, bruising my skin as she dragged me towards  _ the closet _ . I hated that dark room, the only light coming from three candles upon the floor, the great bleeding Jesus on the wall, the dust that shifted when I collapsed. No, no, I couldn’t go in there again, not today, not ever!

I refused to stand, screaming and trying to yank my arm away from Mama. “No!”

_ Slam _ . 

“I HATE YOU! FUCK YOU!” 

I envisioned Mama making a cross out of her fingers when she heard me scream through the door, when she heard my beating fists against it, my bloodcurdling screeching. My knees hurt where they’d hit the ground, my ribs hurt where Mama’d kicked them, blood coursed down my knuckles from how hard I was hitting them against the door. Jesus watched me silently from the wall, stony-faced and cold.

* * *

You’d never guess it from the way he looked now, but Gerard Way was beautiful as a child, with a round, pale face, small fringe of dark hair, and a serious demeanor. He was always inside the house he shared with his mama. Once, though, when he was seven years old, she allowed him to go play outside. Gerard, not knowing how to play, just walked along the picket fence dividing the Way property from their neighbors’. Said neighbors had a son, Brendon,  maybe seventeen years old, who frequented the lawn chair in the backyard to get some sun. On the day Gerard was outside, so was Brendon.

Brendon snoozed, sprawled out on the chair, bronzed face and chest gleaming under the late May sun. Gerard stopped and gaped through the fence, making a small sound of wonder... and attraction.

The sound woke Brendon, and he looked over at Gerard, smirking. “Like what you see, kid?”

“Mama says I shouldn’t look at boys.” Gerard turned his melancholy face away. “She says it’s a sin.”

Before the concerned Brendon could reply, Mrs. Way flung open the back door of their tiny house. It smashed against the stucco, causing the young Gerard to wince. He backed away from the fence, and Brendon stood.

Gerard cried, “Mama!” and ran to her, ran into the outstretched arms of that drooling, grinning woman. Brendon, fearing the woman might crush the child, screamed.

They went in the house, and not seconds later, there rose a great scream that penetrated the windows of every house on the street. There were more sounds - shattering glass, more screams, some violent praying, doors slamming - and a vase flew through one of the windows, shattering on the lawn.    
Brendon watched in horror as a stone pinged the top of the Way house, seemingly falling from the sky. The pebble was followed by another, and another, and another, until a shower of stones was hitting the roof. The stones got bigger as the house went eerily silent.

* * *

It was six hours before Mama let me out of the closet. I wept now, in my room, wondering what I had ever done to deserve this. Was I a sinner? Did God hate me? Did I even believe in God?

I mumbled to myself as I slid out of my clothes. “Jesus watches from the wall, but his face is cold as stone. If he loves me, as she tells me, why do I feel so all alone?” The verses had a nice ring to them. I scrawled them in my English notebook.

As I was setting the book down, I caught sight of my body, bare, in the mirror. Almost in a trance, I moved towards it, a hand on my pale chest. All of my skin was milky white, sunless yet bruised. My bones created crevices and ledges all over my body, and my eyes looked wide and sad. My hair was a mess. I neatened it with one hand until it looked almost pretty. Pretty? I peered closer at the mirror. I wasn’t.

The mirror cracked neatly in half.

* * *

The boys lined up silently and fearfully in front of their gym teacher on Monday. Mr. Desjardin was a formidable man, taller and stronger than most of the football team. His heart was harder than his abs.

“Boys, I am very disappointed in all of you. Your actions in the locker room on Friday were sick, you hear me?” He struck his thigh with his clipboard. 

“But he deserved it. He’s pathetic,” snorted Bert, the boy who’d initiated the shoe-throwing.

“Mr. McCracken, I’ll hear not another word,” Mr. Desjardin threatened.

“How did you even find out about it?” one of the other boys piped up. “You weren’t in there.”

Mr. Desjardin frowned. “A student informed me of the incident. Now, if we have  _ no more questions _ -” he glared pointedly at Bert, who shrank back a little, “- I’ll discuss your punishment. You will all serve detention with me after school every day this week. If you choose to skip any of these detentions, the punishment will be refusal of your prom tickets and three days’ suspension. Is that clear?”

The boys nodded. Except for Bert. “I’m not coming,” he said darkly.

“That is your choice, Mr. McCracken. I’ll see to it that your name is removed from the prom guest list.” Mr. Desjardin shrugged and blew his whistle. “Enough talk. Let’s get to dodgeball.”

Bert gritted his teeth. _Damn you to hell, Gerard Way._

* * *

_ Focus, focus, focus _ .

I stared at the hairbrush on my dresser, willing it to rise with every fiber of my being. I thought only of that hairbrush. I kept my excitement in check, forgot about how I was breathing, ignored my pounding heart. 

The hairbrush lifted six inches into the air, then, when I grinned, tumbled to the floor with a tiny smash. 

“Gerard?”

“Everything’s fine, Mama. Goodnight.”

* * *

“Sorry, Lindsey. I can't hang tonight.”

The blonde frowned at Frank. “Why not? I thought you needed to have girl talk while watching _Grease_ and eating Doritos.”

“Ha.” Frank smiled a little. “No, I just have a lot on my mind. Too much.”

Lindsey frowned. Even through Skype, it felt like her hand was on Frank’s shoulder. “Talk to me, sister.”

“I’ve just been really upset lately… about how everyone’s been treating Gerard Way.”

Lindsey snorted. “That kid practically asks for it. He refuses to stand up for himself.”

“And that’s a problem.” Frank scrubbed his hands through his hair. He let out a sigh. “I just wish I could help the poor guy. He’s really not as strange as people think. Honestly, I don’t think anyone knows why they’re mean to him.”

Lindsey nodded understandingly. A smile grew on her face. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know, Z. I just don’t know.” Frank looked so forlorn that Lindsey knew she had to do something.

“I’ll ask him to prom,” she said.

Frank looked up, half-overjoyed and half-jealous. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah. I mean, I was gonna have to go with you, and honestly, who would want to go with you?”

“I was hoping Gerard would.”

“You think his mom would let him go to prom with a boy? Isn’t she a crazy-ass Christian?”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Life just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you have him all to yourself when we get to the actual prom.” Lindsey laughed. “I was gonna hang out with Jamia the whole time anyway.”

Frank smiled. “Have I ever told you you’re the best?”

“Many times.” Lindsey blew him a kiss. “I’ll ask Gerard tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Frank smiled. “Let me know how it goes.”

“Later!”

“Later.”

* * *

I dreamt of stones on Monday night. The stones were so big they looked like whole mountains, and they hurdled down onto my house, my mama, my school. Frank was in my dream too, his lips kissing blood off of my skin while my tears fell in his hair. He’d smiled at me today. That was all it took to make it a good day.

I’d managed to lift the hairbrush to the ceiling and spin it in a circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all! See you soon!


	3. Whirlwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard starts to get the hang of his powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the planet gets fucked up, who votes we all start a band of Killjoys? Like we all rename ourselves and drive muscle cars and live in the dessert and try to overthrow the government? I'd name myself Bullet Shell. I honestly really like Danger Days, but Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge is my favorite MCR album. What are your favorites? Also what are your favorite songs? Mine definitely fluctuates, but right now Our Lady of Sorrows and I Never Told You What I Do For A Living have been my faves. Anyway, yeah, here's Chapter 3! I realize now that this story is going to be way shorter than I originally planned, because I end up covering so much ground in every chapter. The total might be like 7 chapters. I hope that's okay. Enjoy this chapter, friends! :)

Frank was in my English class. His assigned seat was right in front of me, so I got to stare at the scorpion tattoo on his neck for the whole period. And I did, that Tuesday.

“Frank Iero, would you like to share the poem you brought in?” the teacher, Mr. Sampson, asked. 

I looked down at my desk when I heard Frank's name, smiling to myself. Frank picked up a crumpled sheet of lined paper, swaggering to the front of the classroom. 

He started reading, and I closed my eyes, absorbing his husky, low voice in my ears and my heart. “‘An eagle is just another bird until he can spread his wings. A river is just a sheet of ice 'til winter turns to spring…’” 

When I opened my eyes, Frank had finished reading, and he was looking right at me. I snapped my fingers in polite applause, and Frank grinned. Before he sat back down, he reached for my wrist on my desk and just barely brushed his fingers over it. My skin tingled, and I blushed. 

“Gerard Way, would you share your favorite poem please?”

My head snapped up. Oh, God. I wanted to refuse, but I knew I couldn't. Keeping my eyes down, I picked up my paper and scurried to the front of the classroom. I saw Mikey and Ray, two of Frank’s friends, elbowing each other and snickering. Frank shot them a look.

“‘Th-This unfrequented-d place to find some e-ease… Ease to the b-body some, none… none to the mind-d…’” My voice shook with my knees and hands. 

There was more snickering. Some kids sarcastically made warding signs with their fingers. I kept reading, shivering as I did so. Why had I brought this one? Why not something they might understand?

“‘All in flames-s… Ascended.’”  

There was some laughter now, and caustic applause. I glared at the floor, raising my shoulders in defense, and hurried back to my seat where nobody would look at me.

“Thank you, Gerard. That was… disturbing.” 

The class laughed at what Mr. Sampson said. I stared at my hands, and they twitched. 

“You got anything else to share or are you done scaring us for the day?” 

More laughter.

“Asshole,” someone muttered at the teacher. It was Frank. My heart warmed.

“What was that, Mr. Iero?” Mr. Sampson advanced towards Frank menacingly.

“I said ‘awesome’. I thought what Gerard read was awesome.” 

Mr. Sampson stared Frank down for a few seconds, then turned away, calling on someone else to read their poem.

Frank turned around and smiled at me, reaching for my hand. I smiled a little when he squeezed it.

“Thank you, Frank,” I whispered.

“No problem. I think your poem was better than all the garbage people are bringing in.”

I giggled a little. Frank’s eyes sparkled with honesty and good humor. I could’ve gazed into them for hours.

“Mr. Iero, turn around!” Mr. Sampson yelled at Frank. 

“Sorry, sir.” Frank rubbed his thumb over the top of my hand once and winked before he turned to face the front of the classroom.

I smiled to myself, expecting my hand to start glowing where he’d held it.

* * *

“I’m gonna get that Way bitch. I’m gonna take his ass down,” Bert growled to himself, racking his brain. What could he do to that pathetic little faggot?

Ugh. Bert hated everything about that stupid boy, from his little stick body to his greasy hair to the acne on his pallid forehead. He was just such a… a… pig. Was that right? No. A crow. But something about his often-sniffling nose was distinctly piglike.

Pigs… A grimy smile stretched over Bert’s face. Pigs and blood… pigs’ blood. 

What could he do with pig’s blood? Hmm… the image of Gerard drenched in heavy brownish blood, screams reedy out of his throat, hands groping at nothing, was one of tremendous appeal. The boy deserved it - he’d gotten Bert kicked out of the prom, after all.

Bert found himself cackling. He didn’t mean to, but the cruel laugh slipped out anyway. Yes, he could see it now. Gerard would have to go to prom, and he’d have to be crowned Prom King, but… God, it would be so perfect. 

Bert pulled out his phone to text his friend Bob. He was going to need a pulley, a bucket, and a partner in crime who was just as twisted as he.

* * *

“Hey, Gerard?”

The girl’s voice almost made me run away, but I stopped myself. I turned to face her, trying to smile. 

Lindsey Ballato, beautiful and blond,  _ popular _ , leaned against a locker, smiling sweetly. “How’s it going?”

“Um, uh… okay. I’m okay.” It was hard to look at her. My eyes flicked around, from her hair to the wall, to her face and back to the wall. “Your poem. It was good.”

Lindsey laughed. “Thanks. Glad you liked it. So, Gerard.” She tried to look me in the eyes, but I didn’t cooperate. “I was wondering, if you don’t have a date already, you might want to come to the prom with me?”

My eyes snapped to hers. It was hard to tell if she was serious or not.

No. No way. She couldn’t be asking  _ me _ to prom. She was _ Lindsey Ballato _ .

“W-What?”

“You. Me. Prom. Wanna?” She said it slowly, as if speaking to a dim-witted child.

“I… I don’t like to be tricked.” I didn’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it did. 

“I’m not trying to trick you, Gerard. I swear. Go with me?” She touched my hand.

“I- I - no.” I shook my head. “I know who you go around with.”

“Hey, I don’t go around with people I don’t want to go around with. I’m asking you because I want to. Just please say yes?”

“Stop trying to trick me!” My own strength surprised me. I had to get away. I stepped around Lindsey and ran, deciding the locker room was a safe place to break down. Tears blurred my vision. Even if I’d said yes, I knew she’d probably do something awful to me at the prom, or, also likely, my mama wouldn’t let me go at all. And in a secret pocket of my heart, I still had hope that maybe Frank would ask me.

* * *

“Well, he said no.”

“Why’d he say no?”

Frank and Lindsey were waiting in the lunch line together, ignoring the louder-than-usual conversation going on around them so they could gossip about Gerard.

“He thinks I’m tricking him.” Lindsey shrugged. “I think he secretly just really wants to go with you.” 

“I hope so.” Frank laughed.

The two grabbed their crappy school lunches - soggy fries, flimsy pizza disks - and continued chatting as they made their way into the surging crowd.

Frank looked around for Gerard, who usually sat by himself in the back of the caf. The mousy boy was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, know where he is?” Frank asked Lindsey.

She shrugged. “He ran off in the direction of the gym after he rejected me, so yeah. Maybe he’s there.”

Frank didn’t waste any time handing his tray to Lindsey, who glared at him like he'd given her a dead rat, and running out of the caf.

* * *

I curled up on a bench in the locker room, missing lunch. I buried my tear-streaked face in my folded arms. Lindsey didn’t really want me. Nobody wanted me.

“Gerard? Are you okay?” Frank’s voice called softly. I heard the locker room door close, and felt him sit beside me. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. I hid my face in his chest and forgot to wonder how he’d found me.

“What happened?” he asked, rubbing my shoulder. 

“I -” I leaned back from his chest, him still holding onto my shoulders, me still crying a little bit. “I got invited to the prom, by Lindsey.” I swallowed my sobs. I was grateful for his arms around me - I felt warm and safe, safer than I felt at home.

“That’s great! Why are you crying?” Frank gave me a look like I was crazy, but it wasn’t mean. 

“How could someone like her want to go to the prom with someone like me?”

Frank sighed. He grabbed my hand and stood, pulling me up with him. “Come with me.”

I shuffled my feet, following him to the mirror on the wall. He stopped me in front of it, stepping behind me and resting his hands on my shoulders. “Look at yourself. What do you see?”

I said nothing. All I saw was my ugly self, with teary eyes, teeny-tiny limbs, and bountiful acne.

“Because I see a beautiful boy.” 

“Me!?” I was shocked. Frank Iero thought I was beautiful, of all things. It made my chest flutter like angels were stuck in it.

“Yes you, silly! Look! You’ve got a thick head of hair, pretty eyes, nice cheekbones, ivory skin… Gee, you’re beautiful!”

“But… But I’m just plain old me.”

“Really?” Frank turned me to face him, and I couldn’t help looking into his eyes. “Because I think you’re more than that. You’re gorgeous, Gerard Way. You’re amazing. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you’re worth it. Anyone would be jealous of you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do.” 

He ran his thumb along my cheek to wipe away a tear. He smiled. “Just look at you. Perfect.” His hand, warm and callused, rested on my face like it was the most comfortable place in the world.

His face started moving closer to mine. Oh God, was he really -?

Seconds before his lips touched mine, I whispered, “Wait.” I had no idea how to be kissed. And oh, if Mama found out! I’d go to _the closet_ for sure, and probably hell as well. 

Frank paused, his hand sliding to my chin. “Have you ever been kissed, Gerard?” His eyes were close enough for me to pick out little gold flecks in them.

“No,” I whispered.

“Well, may I kiss you?”

My chest tightened too much to speak. I hoped closing my eyes was enough of an answer.

And suddenly he was kissing me, and I was kissing him back, even though I didn’t know how, and it was so wonderful. I forgot that everyone hated me and that I lived in a hellhole. The locker room walls melted away and all there was was Frank. Wonderful, wonderful angel Frank.

* * *

“Say what!?” Bert’s eyes widened, and he white-knuckled the phone excitedly.

“I’m not kidding you,” Bob giggled on the other line. “Gerard’s going to the prom with Lindsey Ballato.”

Bert laughed. “You’re not pulling my leg?”

“I’m a hundred percent honest.”

They laughed for a few minutes, maniac smiles on their faces.

“All the better for us.” Bert grinned. “How many pigs has your dad got?”

“Enough to fill a bucket.” Bob’s smirk could be heard through the phone.

Bert chuckled. “Good. Good.”

* * *

I had to push away my whirlwind of thoughts to practice my new skill. My brain was too busy spinning with the events of today to focus on lifting my bed.

There was Frank and the memory of his lips on mine, of how his mouth hadn’t tasted like sin, how he’d made me forget everything. Then there was Lindsey, who’d followed me a little ways as I was leaving school and asked me again if I’d go to prom with her. I’d said yes, not having the heart to tell her that I loved Frank more than I could ever love her. I had to tell Mama, even though she wouldn’t let me.

My bed gave a jerk, and I almost screamed. I squeezed my eyes shut, gritting my teeth almost hard enough to draw blood, and focused. 

I could feel the bed lifting, hovering maybe five feet in the air while I sat upon it. The excitement didn’t register as I fell into the odd coma that came with doing…  whatever this was.

“Gerard! Supper!” 

The bed came crashing to the floor. “Coming, Mama!” I yelled to cover up the noise. 

Maybe twenty minutes later, I was swirling my fork in a plate of apple pie, ripping the slice apart until it was mush. I knew I had to tell Mama about the prom. Oh, but what would she say?   


“Mama?”

“Yes, Gerard?” Mama sipped her cinnamon tea.

“I’ve been invited to the prom.”

Silence.

“By a girl. Her name is Lindsey Ballato, and she’s -”

“No.”

“- a very nice girl, and she’ll have me home by eleven. Mama, I’ve -”

“No!”

“- accepted. The kids think I’m strange, and I’m thinking maybe if I go to the prom and I look nice then they’ll treat me like one of them. That’s all -”

Lukewarm liquid splashed into my face. Mama’s tea. It couldn’t have shut me up faster, not even if it was scalding. 

No part of Mama moved. She just sat statue-still, sticky tea dripping down the edges of her mug. Without warning, she threw her head back and screeched, “GOD!”

I couldn’t move. Nerves and fear ran high in my chest, and my mind lagged.

“Go to your closet and pray.” Her hands twisted themselves into talons, her face into a grisly grin. “Pray for your sinning soul.”

“She’s good, Mama, I promise. Lindsey is a very nice girl!” I hope.

“Ah, but nice means nothing when she gets to thinking about you!” Mama’s chest heaved. “The girls will all be after you, they’ll want you, they will!” 

“Mama, you’d better stop.”  _ I am not afraid, I am not afraid, I am not afraid. _

Mama advanced towards me, her fingers twitching. “Your closet! Go to your closet!”

“No, Mama!  _ No _ !” Almost against my will, my plate, still full, began to raise, hovering in the air above Mama’s head. It flipped, sending the remains of the pie slopping onto Mama’s head. 

Her spectacles were askew, and her eyes were wide when she glared at me. I could see fear somewhere in the dark rodent eyes.

“Witch,” she whispered, her fingers forming a cross. “Satan’s spawn. Devil’s child…”

“Mama, shut  _ up _ !” I got to my feet as Mama collapsed to her knees, howling and clawing at her face like some possessed being. 

“SHUT UP!” My voice went raspy with the scream.

Mama’s mouth still gaped open, hanging uselessly, but no sound came out. It took me a half-second to realize that I’d stilled her vocal chords.

“I don’t want to fight you, Mama. I’m going to the prom. And you’re not going to stop me.”

Mama made no move to stop me, but she did begin moaning something about sin and rebellious demons possessing innocent children.

“Got it, Mama?”

There was no response.

Giving up and getting a disappointing feeling of anticlimax, I quit the room and went into my own, opening the drawer I saved for fabrics. I had some nice red silk to make my suit with. The devil’s color. But it looked good on me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter might not go up for a few days, I've been getting way too much homework lately. Love you all, hope you stick around! So long and goodnight!


	4. Prom Night: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The number of days before the prom lessens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long. I like the way it turned out though. Btw The Shadow Exploded is not a real book XD I have no important news to share, so I'll just ask you guys how you are. How are you? Let me know. Idk if there's a private messaging thing on Archive because I never bothered checking, but if there is, I guess shoot me a message if you wanna talk about anything. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Have fun! :) (My boyfriend says hello btw)

Two days before the prom, I made the last stitch in my suit. 

I put the thing on to make sure it fit. It hugged my body like a second skin, just the way I wanted it. The opposite of my usual baggy outfits. I turned to look in the mirror, spitting in my hand and slicking back my hair with it. 

The red silk jacket and pants were sharp against the milky white expanse of my skin. The jacket cut bloody lines across the black button-down underneath it. In the mirror, for a minute, maybe, I think I looked pretty. I touched the glass, smiling at my reflection for the first time. Hopefully Frank would think I looked pretty too.

“I might have known it would be red.” 

With a little yelp, I started, bumping my hip against the corner of my bureau. A sharp pain flared and I knew I’d have a bruise tomorrow. “Mama!”

She stood in the doorway, glaring at me as if I were Satan himself. She towered over me, but I could tell she was scared of me and my capabilities. “Take that off.”

“No, Mama. Can’t you see? I look good.” I twirled for her.

“Take that suit off, Gerard. We’ll go burn it together and you’ll never wear this evil color again. And we’ll pray, we’ll pray for hours and do penance.”

“No, Mama.” She couldn’t make me! This suit was me and it was mine, and it might make me one of  _ them _ .

Mama fixed her eyes on me. They sparkled with a strange disconnect, as if she had forgotten that she was still in this room and speaking not to Satan but to me. She lifted a hand to her face, hooking it into a claw, and shoved the nails deep into her flesh, dragging them down until bold lines of blood sketched along her cheek.

“Stop hurting yourself, Mama. You can’t make me take it off. You can’t make me stay here and do your bidding always.”

Mama, screaming like a banshee, tightened her hand into a fist and struck herself in the mouth. Blood pooled and waterfalled down her chin. “Cast that devil’s red from your body, Gerard! Save yourself forever from sin!” she wailed.

“Go away, Mama!” I flexed my mind, opening the door. "Leave me alone!"

Mama’s feet began to slide along the wood of my floor. She shuffled, trying to stay but being unsuccessful. She began to pray, murmuring something. “STOP THAT!” she screamed at me, interrupting herself. The blood from her mouth dripped onto the floor. Crimson flowers on the wood.

My mind flexed again, slamming the door behind Mama. I ignored her screaming prayers and turned back to the mirror. I smiled. I was the one with power now, and there was nothing Mama or God or anyone could do about it.

* * *

“How long do you think this will take?” Bert examined his nails by the light of a passing streetlamp.

Bob narrowed his eyes at the dark road ahead, frowning. “As long as we need.”

“They’re pigs. How hard can it be?” Bert nudged the hammer at his feet with his boot toe. 

“They’re smarter than you think they are.” Bob blew a stop sign and took a sharp, screeching right. “Dad’s farm’s straight ahead.”

Bert giggled a little bit. “How many do you think we’ll need?” 

“We’ll see when we get the first one.” Bob, starting to feel Bert’s wicked excitement, allowed a smile to slide over his lips.

The car rumbled to a halt in the gravel driveway next to the barn. Every barn window was dark, and a hush hung over the paddocks.

Bob and Bert, together toting one bucket, one flashlight, and one hammer, marched towards the muddy back pasture. A sea of pigs slept, snorted, shuffled around in filthy straw. They blinked in Bob’s flashlight beam like people roused too early, letting out confused _ snuff _ s of breath. 

“Goooood little piggies,” Bob hummed. “Piggies come to poppa.”

Bert elbowed him. “I’m poppa.”

One pig, plump and shrimp-pink, broke away from the herd and poked its way to the fence. It stuck a snotty muzzle through the fence boards and stretched to sniff Bob’s hands. 

“What now?” Bert asked. 

Bob grinned. Even in the dark, you could see the madness in his eyes. “Kill it,” he told Bert. “Climb the fence, go up next to it, and kill it. I’ll come with you and catch the blood.”

“Why the hell did I bring a hammer? How am I supposed to draw blood?” 

“Break its skull, then use the pronged side to rip into its piggy flesh.” Bob’s casual tone of voice suggested that he was giving directions to the nearest bathroom.

Bert swallowed. Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling so good about this. “I can’t. I’ve never killed something.”

Bob sighed. “Fine. Gimme the hammer. You’ll have to catch the blood though… I hope you don’t like the boots you’re wearing.”

“I need a new pair anyway.” Bert swapped the hammer for the bucket and flashlight.

“Keep the light on the stupid thing’s head.” Bob vaulted over the fence and approached the pig, humming again.

Bert, with far less ease, climbed the fence and stood with Bob, dropping to one knee. “Go on, do it.”

Bob swung.

The pig didn’t have time to let out a final _oink_ before the hammer crushed its skull. It crumpled as if only dazed, and Bob quickly jammed the back of the hammer into its fleshy neck. 

“Bucket!” Bob yelled, tearing open a gash. Blood spurted from the wound, abundantly and immediately. Bert cursed, sticking the bucket under the flow. The blood, dark and reeking, glopped into the bucket more or less neatly.

“That looks like enough.” Bert sloshed the liquid a little by accident, some of it getting on the ground.

“We’re killing another one. The bucket’s not full.” Bob began calling another pig.

Bert swallowed, crawling through the mud towards the next victim. He was beginning to regret this. But then he saw this new pig, paler than the last and with wide eyes like Gerard’s, and he remembered why he’d wanted to do this in the first place. If this was what it took to get back at the Way bitch, then he would do it.

* * *

It was Friday, the day before the prom, and everyone was talking. Who was going with who, who was wearing what, who was nominated for Prom King and Queen. Every time I turned my head, somebody was talking about prom. Some boys were giving me angry glares.

I ran into Frank on my way to English, and my heart gave a little surge.

“Hey, Gerard.” He smiled at me, set his hand on my back. “How’re you?”

“I’m alright.” I smiled a little. “But everyone is looking at me like they wanna kill me.”

“That’s because they’re either jealous that you’re taking Lindsey or jealous that you’re on the ballot for Prom King. Either way, they're jealous.”

I must have looked ridiculous, my eyes bugging, my jaw dropping. “What? I'm on the ballot?”

“I'm not kidding. You and Lindsey are on the ballot, no shit.” Frank smiled at me, but stopped smiling when he saw my fallen face. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just… I just wish…” 

We stopped outside the English classroom. Frank leaned against a locker, looking me in the eyes and taking my hand. 

“What do you wish, honey?” Concern warmed his eyes. 

“I wish I could’ve gone with you.” Saying it was worse than thinking it. I blushed, looking away.

“Aw. Don’t worry, I’ll be there. We can dance together all night if you want.” Frank grinned, pulling my hand to his lips. The kiss he left there made my skin burn in the best possible way.

“Boys? Class started five minutes ago.”

I stared at the floor, letting Frank do the talking. “Sorry, sir.” Frank ushered me gently into the classroom, and I shuffled my way to my seat.

Halfway through class, Frank reached for my hand while the teacher’s back was turned. He pressed a sticky note into my palm.

I unfolded the note under my desk so the teacher couldn’t see. Frank had scrawled something unmistakable in black ink.

_ I love you. _

I wrote back, my ink red -  _ I love you too.  _ \- and slid the note into Frank’s waiting fingers.

I’d meant it. I loved Frank more than anyone or anything, more than God, more even than Mama. Frank was all I needed.

* * *

An excerpt from  _ The Shadow Exploded: An Analysis of the Gerard Way Affair _

“To fully analyze Prom Night itself, we must first review everything we know of Gerard Way as a person. We know that he was raised solely by his mother, and was victim to her religious mania. We know that he was bullied severely as well, and was in love with Frank Iero (who will be discussed later in this analysis, for his involvement with the causation of Prom Night is still unknown). We know that Way possessed the telekinesis (TK) gene, but it is unknown where he inherited this gene. Way demonstrated his abilities early in life in a situation of extreme stress, and again in the locker room, under a similar level of stress. Finally, we know that the events of Prom Night itself were the result of a third stressful situation…”

* * *

I straightened my gold bow tie and stood before my bedroom mirror, my hands relaxing at my sides for what felt like the first time in a while.

_ I’m not nervous, I’m not the least bit nervous _ , I repeated over and over in my head, trying to calm my jackrabbit heart. The bottle of hair gel on my bureau shuddered, but I stopped it quickly with my brain and turned back to the mirror.

The suit and shirt were still flattering to my slender frame, the way they’d been two days ago. The new black dress shoes on my feet weren’t too big like my other shoes, and the fake gold rose in my lapel looked lavish against the bloodred of the jacket. With my hair gelled back from my face, you could see my blush, but also my smile. I wasn’t used to seeing myself smile. It looked nice. My eyes looked warmer, strange. I thought I looked alright, but I wasn’t sure. There was no Mama to look at me, as she had locked herself in her room, praying in a voice that swelled every now and then so I might hear her through the wall. When I screamed “SHUT UP!”, she kept the praying quiet.

I wandered to the living room, cradling Lindsey’s corsage in both hands. The Black Forest cuckoo clock on the wall said seven-thirty. My heart started sprinting again. Lindsey should be here. Was she even coming?

I was such a fool. I should’ve known better. This was just a cruel joke; she wasn’t coming. I was-

_ Ding! _

Mama screamed when she heard the doorbell, but didn’t leave her room.

Lindsey was practically glowing on the doorstep, decked out in a white chiffon dress that floated on the warm breeze. Her makeup was dewy and angelic, her hair piled into a chignon. She grinned a red-lipped smile when she saw me. “You look wonderful, Gerard,” she said, and reached for my hand. 

“I, uh - Thank you. You look beautiful.” I swallowed, awkwardly handing her the corsage of tea roses. 

Lindsey giggled, pinning the corsage onto her capped sleeve. “Shall we?”

“We- um, yes.” Stiffly, I offered her my arm. She took it and had to almost drag me to her car - I was too nervous to walk.

* * *

“Don’t fuck this up,” Bert said gruffly to Bob, shoving him towards the ladder. The bucket in Bob’s hand got jostled, and he clutched it tighter to keep the blood from sloshing over the sides. He shot Bert a look and started climbing, Bert following with the pulley and rope.

Up in the rafters above the stage, the darkness was almost palpable. Bert plucked a flashlight from his pocket and shined it on the rafters' beams in front of them.

“They’re gonna be at center stage, right?” Bob called back.

“I think so. There should be x marks on the floor.” Bert flicked the light downwards onto the stage. Sure enough, neon green duct tape made two large ‘x’s at center stage. Bert grinned when he saw that there was a beam right above the ‘x’s.

Bob saw the beam too, and looked over his shoulder at Bert. They shared a chuckle and crawled to the beam.

“Which one does the king stand on?”

“That one.” Bert pointed. 

Bob perched the bucket on the beam, smirking. “You’re sick, Bert. You’re so sick.”

It was what he’d said when Bert had first told him of the plan. Bert responded the same way he had then: “I know.”

* * *

“Whoa.”

Students flooded the parking lot and front steps of the school like a flock of strange birds. There was laughter, excited chatter, and more colors than I’d ever seen all in one place before.

“Are you alright, Gerard?” Lindsey asked, parking with some difficulty. 

The ocean of students made my stomach swirl a little bit. “Yeah, just… could we sit for a minute?”

“Sure.” Lindsey stuck her keys into the tiny gold clutch bag she carried and leaned back.

I tucked back a strand of my hair that had come unstuck, but the curl, determined to rebel, sprung onto my forehead again. Giving up, I left it dangling there, a tiny flaw in my gelled hairdo. 

“Look! There’s Frank!” Lindsey pointed.

_ Frank!? _ I snapped my gaze to the windshield. All I saw was a group of girls all wearing the same dress. “Where?”

Lindsey laughed. “Gotcha!”

I had to giggle a little. That joke wasn’t mean; it was just funny. “Let’s go in now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye, my loves! Next chapter might take a while to go up but I'll try my best to get it done. Love you all!


	5. Prom Night: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard has some fun at the prom. Unfortunately, so do Bert and Bob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I'm so so sorry this took forever to write and post. And I won't have time to do literally anything this week because it's tech week for the musical I'm in. Ugh. At least I'm playing the lead! Honestly, I'm so excited for tech week because I'm obsessed with the show, it's a great show with a great cast. Okay, I hope you all enjoy this chapter even though it kinda sucks! Love you all!

The gym had become a strange alien planet for the prom. The people were not miserable, the lights were not harsh, the music was not quiet.

“Wow.” Lindsey immediately started to admire the Starry Night-themed decorations. “It’s insane in here.” 

When I didn’t respond, she lightly punched my arm. “Go on in. Find your boy.”

I blushed. “F-Frank?”

“Yeah, dummy!” Another playful punch. “Have fun tonight.”

“You, too.” I whispered as she disappeared into the mess of people.

I glanced around, feeling utterly lost.  _ Wait. No. I refuse to be lost tonight. It’s prom, after all. _

* * *

“I’m _ fine _ , Bob,  _ honestly _ .”

Bert wasn’t fine. His palms were sweaty on the rope, burning panic kept rising in his chest, and it was hard to see through the gap in the stage stairs.

“So after they announce the King and Queen they start playing the school song. When you hear those first few notes they’ll be standing there, and you’ll pull the cord.” Bob was grinning. 

Bert shivered. “Do you think you could pull the rope?”

“Fine, you coward.” Bob grasped the rope. “But the second I pull it, we get outta here, okay?”

“Of course.” Bert rolled his eyes. 

“Now all that’s left to do is wait.”

* * *

“Damn, Gerard!” Oh God, there was a boy looking me up and down. He was smirking, he was cute, and I was pretty sure his name was Adam. “You look hot.”

I found myself blushing. “Thanks. You don’t look bad yourself.”  _ But you’re not Frank _ .

“I mean, like, really hot.” Something in his eyes told me he wasn’t kidding. He wasn’t going to burn me with a cigarette and laugh about his own cleverness; he genuinely thought I looked good. “If I knew you’d clean up this well, I would’ve asked you myself.” 

“Oh! Um, thank you.”

Another boy sauntered over to us, this one even cuter. “Is that you, Gerard?” He actually  _ put an arm around my waist _ . “You look sexy as hell.”

“Um, thank you!”  _ Hell isn’t sexy _ , a little voice, the voice that obeyed only Mama, in my head said, but I ignored it. The boy meant it as a compliment. I think.

“Gerard, where’d you get your suit? It’s  _ awesome _ .” A girl this time, gently touching the fabric of my sleeve.

“I made it!”  _ Oh God, they must think I’m so lame, they- _

“ _ Made _ it? You’re joking, right? The stitching is, like, invisible.” The girl’s jaw dropped. “You have talent.”

I blushed even darker. “Thanks!”

“Wanna dance?” the boy who was cuter than Adam asked, offering me a hand.

“Sure.” What I really wanted was to find Frank, but it couldn’t hurt to use my newfound popularity while it lasted. Tomorrow, they would probably go right back to hating me, but for tonight, I was truly among them.

The boy slid his hands onto my hips. “Do you know how to dance?” he asked, a glint in his blue eyes. 

“No,” I admitted, my knees shaking a little.

“Well, you put your hands here, or anywhere-” he guided my hands to his chest, grinning, “- and try to follow my moves, okay?”

“Okay.” His chest was warm through his navy blue suit. 

“My name’s Ryan, by the way,” he almost-yelled over the blaring music that had started up again.

I started off gently gyrating my hips, hoping I didn’t look ridiculous. “Nice to meet you.”

“Damn, boy.” He watched my body move, a smirk playing on his lips. “Keep doing that.”

I did, swishing my hips this way and that, adding a little shimmy every now and then. If Mama ever saw me dancing like this, she’d lock me in the closet for the rest of my life, or have me showered in holy water.

“Holy shit.” Ryan moved his hips too, bumping mine every now and then in a dirty rhythm. “I never knew you could move like this.”

“ _ I _ didn’t know I could,” I panted. 

That made Ryan laugh. 

“Mind if I cut in?”

Ryan and I looked up to see Frank, watching us with a cheeky grin and an envious glint turning his eyes green. Oh my God, he looked gorgeous. His hair was combed so that it cascaded in clouds of dark waves, his pressed black suit and bloodred tie were delicious against his pale complexion, and I just wanted to kiss him - in front of everyone, I didn’t even care.

“Frank!” Abandoning Ryan, I threw my arms around Frank. 

“I’ve been looking for you all night,” Frank murmured in my ear. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome, Frank.” Except he was more than handsome.

Frank smirked. “Wanna dance?”

“Of course.”  _ As if I could say no! _

“You don’t have to only do that thing with your hips.” Frank chuckled, watching my gyration. “Just move your body however the music tells you to.” He started thumping one foot on the floor.

I followed suit, pounding a hand against the air. The beat was becoming infectious. Soon my entire body had caught on, flowing and pumping along to the bass.

“Now you’re getting it!” Frank drifted closer, his hip ghosting over mine. He was dancing with one arm in the air and a little jackrabbit-jump going.

A grin split my lip. I’d never danced like this before. It was liberating.

* * *

Bert grinned, the tapping of his touch-screen keyboard creating too much of a racket in the tiny space. Bob rolled his eyes, watching his partner-in-crime text.

_ Thx again for agreeing to rig the ballots _ , Bert typed, sending it to Alex, who had been put in charge of counting the votes for Prom King and Queen.

_ Np, happy to fuck G up _

_ Hahaha u r my fave _

_ Ik. Good luck w/ bucket _

_ Thx _

* * *

By the time the song changed, there was a glistening sweat coating Frank’s forehead, and my head was pounding with exertion. Thankfully, the song had changed to a slow, more melodic tune. 

Frank moved closer to me, close enough count the barely-there freckles on his nose, laying his hands on my shoulders.

_ Oh God, oh God, what do I do?  _ My free hand dangled uselessly.

“Waist,” Frank whispered.

I shot him a grateful smile and took his waist in my hands. 

We swayed softly, the flowery melody of the song guiding us into gentle orbit. I gazed down into Frank’s beautiful eyes. I smiled.

“Thank you, Frank. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.” Frank rested his head on my chest, rubbing my shoulder in a way that would be awkward if we weren’t so caught up in the moment.

Without thinking, I grabbed Frank’s hand and spun him under my arm. Frank laughed, pushing up onto his toes like a ballerina. He lost his balance and tumbled into me, both of us laughing when I could barely keep us upright (in fact, if I hadn’t secretly used my  _ powers _ I wouldn’t have been able to). We kept up our sway, my hands on Frank’s back now, his hands on my chest.

“Are you having fun tonight, sweetie?” Frank asked.

“Yeah.” I smiled. “I really, really am.” I really, really was.

“Good.” Frank glanced off to the left and frowned. When I followed his gaze, I saw a girl in a short black dress eyeing me like I was a piece of attractive meat that she wanted to fuck and then devour. _Oh God._ _ Did I just use the eff word?  _

Frank’s hands tangled in my hair, messing it up, turning my face back to his. His lips were waiting there, quivering softly. He didn’t have to ask - I pressed my lips to his without a wasting a second, my hands falling down his back to the curve of his ass.  _ Mama would go mad if she were here. _

Kissing Frank felt like magic, like fireworks. It was more of a rush even than using my  _ powers _ . His lips were warm and soft, the kind of lips that you’d dream about, that you’d sin for. Frank’s hands were all over me in an instant, overwhelming. I took fistfuls of his suit jacket and gripped hard to stop my head from spinning. 

I knew what was making my heart pound even more than the dancing. It was love for Frank, uncontrollable and blazing. Love I'd never felt until now.

* * *

Mr. Desjardin wandered over to the drink table, grabbing himself a cup of punch. He hadn’t wanted to chaperone the prom, but nobody else did either. So of course, he and a couple of English teachers were stuck here.

Said English teachers were standing nearby, whispering in each other’s ears and looking at something or someone among the crowd.

“What’s up?” Mr. Desjardin asked them, casually sipping his punch.

“Gerard Way showed up tonight,” one of the teachers said, pointing a dainty finger at the dance floor.

“Really?” Desjardin looked. Sure enough, there was Gerard Way, the shy, bullied student who sucked at sports and never smiled, dancing with Frank Iero and laughing and looking like he was in heaven. Desjardin smiled. “Damn. He looks so happy out there.” 

“Yeah. I always felt bad for the poor kid.” The non-pointing teacher ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s nice to see him having fun.”

* * *

Exhausted after maybe our seventh song of wild dancing, I touched Frank’s arm. “Can we sit for a bit?”

“I was about to ask the same thing.” Frank, smiling, took my hand. 

We found an empty, round table for two and sat - rather, plopped - across from each other. There was a tiny cup filled with tiny pencils next to the tiny vase of tiny sliver flowers on the tiny table. 

“What are these for?” I plucked a pencil from the collection and spun it in my fingers. It was the length of my pinky finger, and painted black.

“To vote.” Frank pointed to the tiny stack of papers I hadn’t noticed next to the tiny vase of tiny flowers. The tiny stack of papers were all ballots for Prom King and Queen. 

_ Amy Lee and Fred Ramsey _

_ Pete Wentz and Ariel Tares _

_ Mariah West and Kevin Lyman _

_ Lindsey Ballato and Gerard Way _

Seeing my own name on the ballot almost gave me another panic attack. I grinned. “Who should we vote for?”

“You and Lindsey, obviously!” Frank laughed, squeezing my hand. “To the devil with false modesty!”

The word ‘devil’ didn’t make me flinch the way it used to. “The devil!” I repeated, myself laughing.

Frank and I circled Lindsey’s and my names.

* * *

“Mr. Desjardin! I have the ballots, here you go.” Alex put on his winning smile, tucking back a strand of loose brown hair. He handed the thick stack of papers in his hand to the chaperone.

Mr. Desjardin hadn’t wanted to count the votes, but nobody else did either. “Thank you, Alex.”

Alex smiled. “You’re welcome.” 

He turned his back and moved back to the dance floor. His smile turned into a smirk.

* * *

“May I have your attention, everyone!”

Frank and I turned our focus from each other’s lips to the stage, where Headmaster Dunn stood in the white flood of the stage lights. His bright yellow suit was pressed, and he was actually smiling. It was as if the prom had turned the stern Headmaster into a new, younger man. 

“I am pleased to announce your Prom King and Queen!”

Among the various cheers, someone yelled, “Finally!” and caused a chorus of laughter. 

Frank took my hand and squeezed it.

“Your Prom King and Queen arrrreeee…”

_ Spit it out, old man!  _ My mind flexed.

“Gerard Way and Lindsey Ballato!”

My jaw dropped.  _ What? _

“Holy shit!” Frank had his arms around me, his mouth pressed to my ear. 

_ What? What? _

“Honey, you won!” Frank hauled me up from my chair.

“What?” 

My limbs turned to lead. I couldn’t possibly move. But my mouth curved into a smile.

* * *

“I think I owe Alex a blowjob now.” Bert grinned. He and Bob had just heard ‘Gerard Way and Lindsey Ballato’, and blown out simultaneous breaths of relief. Thank God for Alex.

Bert caught sight of Gerard and Lindsey’s faces as they approached the stairs. Lindsey’s red mouth was curled in a cocky smirk, as if she’d known all along that she’d win. Gerard was grinning, the smile too big for his melancholy little face, and his eyes were glittering. He was actually beautiful when he smiled, and it made Bert so angry that he wanted to pull the rope himself.

Bert elbowed Bob out of the way and grasped the rope as Lindsey’s heels started clacking up the stairs, followed by the heavy thud of Gerard’s dress shoes. They were both giggling.

“Get ready,” Bob murmured in Bert’s ear.

* * *

Delirium filled my brain and pulled giggles from my throat. I felt like I was floating up the stairs and across the stage. I’d never won anything in my life, and now here I was, Prom King, voted by the same kids who had thrown shoes at me and tripped me in the hallways. Lindsey had made me into one of  _ them _ , and I couldn’t be happier.

They were clapping, everyone was clapping, and it was real. The school song started up behind me, a soft mutter against the cheers.

In a daze, I accepted the silver crown, the bouquet of red roses, the sash across my chest. I smiled out at the sea of kids, horrible kids, and remembered that they were, in fact, horrible when they hated. The lights were so bright in my face. I felt too exposed, uncomfortable up there, with all those kids’ eyes picking me apart. I wanted to get down.

Just as I was about to tug Lindsey’s hand and ask if we could descend the stairs, I heard a familiar yell coming from the audience; Frank was frantically trying to get the attention of one of the chaperones. He looked terrified. Why? What was wrong?

* * *

“Pull the damn cord! PULL IT!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all liked that chapter :) The next one is where shit gets REAL. Hopefully I can get it uploaded before next weekend. Before I go, I have to go all Promotion Pete on you. If you enjoy Overwatch, go check out my buddy WaitWhoaWhat's first fanfic, a McHanzo story that takes place in a diner. (I don't remember the title lol sorry) He writes dialogue super duper well and it's a really funny, clever story. Okay, I better go. Gotta get to rehearsal. See you all soon!


	6. Prom Night: Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best night of Gerard's life goes up in flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I forgot I already wrote this chapter like a month ago! Here it is. I hope you like it. It's kinda short, but all the chapters after this are gonna be really short so yeah. Sorry this note isn't crazy long or personal like the others have been. Enjoy, my loves!

 

_ What? What? _

* * *

Before any student could question what was happening, there was a torrent of dark liquid crashing down onto Gerard Way, drenching him from head to toe, turning his perfect suit, his gelled hair, his smiling face, crimson.

* * *

Hot. Thick. Blood…

* * *

There were a few beats of silence, and then Mikey shouted, “My God, that’s blood!”

There was a spurt of laughter, then two, then the whole crowd was laughing.

* * *

And everyone was laughing at me again, that twisted, evil sound. I blinked, confused, feeling a veil of shock settling over my body. Where even was I? What was happening?  _ Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I - I - I’m dying! MAMA? WHERE ARE YOU? HELP ME! _

* * *

“Look at him! He doesn’t even know what to do!” jeered a student, pointing. Gerard’s eyes were so wide, so froglike, his posture so still. And the crown was still on his head, now more ruby than silver. He looked so funny up there!

* * *

I screamed. I’m dying, _ I’m dying! _

* * *

The empty buckets swayed above the heads of Gerard and Lindsey, their strings fraying by the second. When Gerard looked up, they snapped loose and landed right on Lindsey’s head with a sickening _plunk_. The Prom Queen collapsed, dead.

* * *

_That’s what you get for bringing a plague into the place of light! It’s all - It’s all YOUR fault!_

* * *

“I WILL FUCKING KILL THE BASTARD BEHIND THIS!” Frank yelled from the audience. His poor love was covered in blood, his best friend was dead, and what could he do about it? Nothing! But he knew he needed to get the hell up there and save Gerard.

Frank bolted for the door that led to the stage’s steps, shoving sniggering classmates out of the way. He yanked the door open and starting to dash up the stairs, when he heard all the exit doors slam shut.

* * *

_And now none of you can leave. I’ve got you here, you sick FUCKS. Nobody will save you now! All those times you laughed at me, all those names you called me, every party I wasn’t invited to, every bruise you left upon my body, every blow you delivered to my heart, it’s all coming back at you!_

* * *

The room exploded with chaos. Students shrieked and ran for the doors, slamming against them, trying to escape the gym, but they wouldn’t budge. They were all tripping over one another, looking like a clumsy herd of pigs in their silly prom clothes. And Gerard stood above it all, glaring out at them, and smiling serenely.

* * *

_Hmm. So pretty you all are, with your hair and your clothes all fixed up nice. How I wish you could all look like me, be drenched like me - be laughed at. There, and now you’re the ones covered in blood, and now you’re the ones who look funny!_

* * *

The overhead sprinklers turned on, showering waterfalls upon everyone, ruining their hairdos and soaking their clothes through.

* * *

_You’ll all drown in here! Drown! Drown!_

* * *

The water created a pyrotechnic show with the rooms electrical devices; sparks shuddered on the floor, wires came alive, a tiny flame birthed among the jumble of gadgets. And suddenly the whole room was ablaze, and the students were coughing and screaming and  _ burning _ , and Gerard - he strolled right off the edge of the stage, floating slowly down to the ground with ease, like he’d bent gravity. Once safely on the floor, he wandered through the flames as if in a trance, hearing the screams, music to his ears. He watched, his face stretching into a grin, as a girl's dress caught on fire, a boy collapsed among the blaze, everyone who had ever made Gerard feel like nothing more than shit were devoured by the flames as easily as paper. 

Gerard flung open a set of doors without touching them, causing a group of students to cry out in relief and run for the new escape route, but he - expression not changing in the slightest - flung out his arms in their direction, repelling them. They smashed into the walls, skulls and spines cracking. Gerard left the gym, and the doors slammed shut behind him. 

* * *

_BURN IN THE FLAMES OF HELL!_

* * *

Frank snuck out the back entrance, running out onto the football field where he could see what was happening. The gym windows were alight with a reddish glow. The inferno spread quickly, and soon the entire school was engulfed in flames as one lone figure - the scrawny form of Gerard Way - made his way down the road, leaving destruction in his wake.

* * *

_ I just have to find my mama - if I ruin the whole town, it’s not my fault, it’s Christ’s. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See y'all in the next chapter!


	7. Wreckage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sad chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am so so so sorry for taking forever to update this piece. This chapter in particular had to go through revision after revision to make it perfect. Here it is finally. I cried when I wrote it. I love you all so much, please enjoy!

_Frank… Mama…. help... Oh God, the blood…_

* * *

Bert and Bob were not laughing. When they’d imagined this - driving away from the prom after dumping blood on Gerard Way - they’d thought they'd be cackling. But they felt no mirth now. 

“What do you think happened?” Bert looked at Bob, who had his eyes narrowed on the road. Bert couldn’t stop his voice from shaking a little. 

“I don’t know, but something tells me it wasn’t good.” 

“Don’t tell me you regret this!”

“I don’t… not quite, I don’t think.” A little shiver knocked against Bob’s spine. 

A streetlight maybe thirty feet ahead of them was glowing orange and hazy in the humid night, illuminating a figure plodding along the side of the road. 

“Is that… oh my God, it is!” Bert screamed.

The figure was Gerard Way. By God, he looked awful. Drenched in blood, his shoulders stiff, his steps measured as if in a trance, he looked nothing short of a zombie.

Bert turned his gaze to Bob again. “Hit him.”

“What!?”

“Kill him, Bob. Run him over.” 

“I’m no murderer!” 

“But think of how people will thank us!” 

Bob eased his foot down more and more on the gas, gaining on the lone figure.

* * *

Headlights on me, _God’s lightning is coming to take me and I’m going like this… Frank? Frank? Where are you?_

* * *

“ _ Shit _ !” The sight of Gerard’s face actually made Bob fall back in his seat a little. The boy’s head had snapped the look at the approaching car, and damn, his face…

Gerard’s blood-streaked countenance had fallen under the same numbing spell as his legs. His mouth was set in a grim line, creasing his forehead. His cheekbones seemed to droop. His eyes were wide and without feeling, shot through with blood. There was no movement to indicate him being fearful of the rapidly approaching car but for a further widening of his eyes.

* * *

 

_ Over, over, over, over… _

* * *

Bert and Bob shrieked until shards of glass pierced their skulls.

The car flipped hood over trunk, skidding on its ceiling across the asphalt with a sickening screech. Windows and windshield shattered, sending a shower of shards glistening, deadly, through the air. 

Almost as an afterthought, a flame sputtered to life among the wreckage, turning the car into a furnace. Gerard did not even smile. He just plodded on.

* * *

_ There, home, my home, my Mama! _

I went in. The candles were burning, those familiar brown shadows settling on my reddened skin and smiling in welcome. Mama was hymn-humming in the living room.

* * *

Gerard fell to his knees, his whole body trembling, on the living room carpet. He did not cry. “Mama, oh Mama, it was -”

“Shhh.” Mama grinned, setting her knitting needles down. “God will forgive you.”

“Mama -”

“I should have killed myself when he put it in me.”

“Mama, that’s not what happened! F-Frank is, Frank is -”

“We lived sinlessly, until that dreadful night when the devil was in him -”

“You shut up, Mama!” Gerard screamed. “ _ I don’t want to hear it! _ ”

“Come here, Gerard.” Mama stood, opened her arms. “You come here. Let us pray.”

“Oh, Mama!” Gerard threw his arms around his mother's waist, burying his face in the ample stomach of her white nightdress, staining the lace with blood. “They all laughed, they  _ laughed _ !” 

“You poor, poor sinner. May heaven’s gate open for you.”

The knife Mama picked up off the sewing table winked cruelly in the candlelight. 

At the clink of the blade against one of Mama’s many rings, Gerard lifting his head. The knife smirked wickedly at him.

“Mama…” Gerard swallowed, tasting blood. “Don’t.”

“I must rid the world of the devil for evermore.” Mama raised the knife and began ranting, rambling off some Bible verse or another. The chant rose and dipped.

“MAMA, NO! HELP ME!” Gerard flung himself at her feet, hands raised in a feeble attempt to ward off the knife.

The knife sang while it sliced. It glittered through the air and plunged into Gerard’s back, burying to the hilt.

Blood bubbled in Gerard's throat as it rawed. He was shrieking.

* * *

_ OH GOD, THE PAIN! _

_... _

_ But why? _

* * *

When Frank saw the overturned car burning under the streetlamp, he pressed a palm over his mouth. He had to get to Gerard’s house. Now.

Frank broke into a sprint, his bare feet smacking and tearing against the asphalt (nobody can run in dress shoes). He thought he knew what Gerard’s house looked like, but he couldn’t be sure in the dark -

There was one house with a backlit cross in the biggest window. That had to be the one.

* * *

“I’m going to give you a present, Mama.”

Mama’s shoulders heaved as she sat back in her chair, her eyes wild.

_ Stop. Stop. Stop _ , I told the beating of her heart. I could feel it pulsating, could hear it’s steady pace. _Stop. Stop. Stop._

“What are you doing, you devil spawn!?” Mama was gasping, clutching at her chest. She could feel me grabbing and squeezing and  _ stopping _ her heart.

_ Stop. Stop. Stop. _

The pulsing was stuttering now. Mama’s eyes bulged.

_ Stop _ .

The beating ceased.

* * *

“Mama?” Gerard inched towards the body of his mother, fear manifesting in his stomach. He forgot about the pain in his back, the blood on his skin, the pounding of his heart. _Oh God._

Frank followed the trail of blood from the front door to the living room. 

“NO!” Gerard screeched, collapsing, tears streaming down his face as a wail of horror ripped its way out of his lips. His knuckles burst open on the floor, bleeding from the strike. "OH GOD!"

“Gerard, Gee! Honey, don’t cry!” Frank called. He dropped to his knees and pulled Gerard's trembling form into his arms.

“MAMA, NO!” Gerard cried, white-knuckling Frank like a lifeline, hiding his face in his chest.

“Shh, shh, honey, I’ve got you, it’s all gonna be okay, I promise. Don’t be afraid, sweetie. I’m here for you, baby, I’ve got you, don’t worry,” Frank murmured. Tears rained from his eyes, and he grasped Gerard’s body without minding the blood or the quakes. 

One tear dripped from Frank’s face and into Gerard’s matted, bloody hair. Frank stroked the drenched tendrils with a flat palm. 

“Frankie? Frank? I - I love you, I love you - don’t leave me, please Frank!” Gerard’s body shuddered in Frank's embrace. “I killed my mama, Frank! She's dead, she's dead! OH GOD, I’M DYING! I’M DYING, OH, SAVE ME, FRANK! I - I - I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”

“Honey, it’s okay! I’ve got you, Gee! I've got you. I love you, Gerard!” Frank pressed his lips to the top of Gerard’s head, swallowing sobs. Gerard lifted his chin so that Frank could move his lips to Gerard’s. Their teeth and tongues clashed, their lips bruised and bled. Their tears mingled.

“I - I need you w-with me, Frankie.” Gerard whimpered, his breath rising and falling slower.

“I know, I know. I promise I won’t leave you,” Frank said. He held Gerard closer. “I love you.”

Gerard raised a hand. The sticky fingers made contact with Frank’s cheek, leaving bloody streaks.  “I love you, Frank.” 

And then Gerard went completely limp. His hand tumbled to his side, his head tipped backwards, his body went cold.

“Gerard? Gee…” Frank shook him. "GERARD!" _Don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead_...

Frank buried his face in Gerard’s damp chest and wailed. His stomach crunched, and his heart wrung itself in his chest. He felt like the world was ending right before his eyes. 

Sobs wracked Frank’s body. They echoed, empty and lonely, reverberating around the glowing living room. "Oh, Gerard... don't worry, baby. I've got you."

Frank kissed Gerard’s frozen lips over and over again, clutching him close. He wouldn’t give him up just yet. He couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading. There will be one more chapter after this one :) If you feel like it, follow @smuttyfrerard on Instagram, where I post weekly smut (on Saturdays) under the name Gwin, and some other really amazing authors post their smut on various days. It's so interesting to see everyone's various styles, and I think it's well worth following :) Anyone read any good books lately? I'm currently reading Stephen King's 'On Writing' and I'm benefitting from it so much. I'd recommend it for any writer or anyone who wants to get into writing. I'm almost done with it though, I need some book recs! Until next time, my loves! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Get ready for it to get really disturbing! Yay!


End file.
